


northern downpour sends its love

by inkoustem



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Chatting & Messaging, Gen, Liverpool F.C.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkoustem/pseuds/inkoustem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks into settling in at Los Angeles and only then Steven realises that he is still very much a part of the Liverpool group chat on Whatsapp.<br/><br/><br/><i>alternatively; there are different kinds of leaving.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	northern downpour sends its love

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to [savita](http://stevensgerrard.tumblr.com/); for being there when this started, and being there until it finished.  
> title taken from northern downpour by panic! at the disco, much to her dismay though. lmao ily lots sav.  
> uh. warning: complete disregard of canon timeline, probably. yeah.  
> thank you and i hope you'll enjoy it!

He is watching Alex preparing a smoothie when his phone beeps gently on the counter. Steven looks at the screen and his eyes widen a little. Two weeks into settling in at Los Angeles and only then Steven realises that he is still very much a part of the Liverpool group chat on Whatsapp.

In his defence, the group is not exactly an active one—he can’t even remember how or why the group came about in the first place, but it isn’t unwelcomed—so this kind of thing easily slips his mind. Not to mention that, however reluctant he is to admit, Steven is not exactly a young lad, and with old age status comes incompetency to some degree around internet and technology in general. He is, though, competent enough to open the group chat and decipher that it is Daniel who sends the messages.

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _Can’t believe I’m saying this but I’m kinda getting tired of the sun and the beach  
_ > _Tell me it’s at least cloudy wherever u lot are_

The first reply comes from Jordon in the form of many crying laughing emoji accompanied by a question mark. The second comes seconds after that.

 **Raheem Sterling**  
> _Ur having a laugh_

 **Jordon Ibe**  
> _Studge u love the sun_  
> _Did they do something to ur head as well over there_

 **Raheem Sterling**  
> _He’s just taking the piss cos he’s got sun n we’re stuck with miserable English weather_

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _How dare you suggest such a thing_  
> _Cant a guy be a lil homesick like?_

 **Jordan Henderson**  
> _Studge is getting soft_

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _Oi_

Steven chuckles as chat bubbles pop up one after another—the number of participant, tease, and emoji increase gradually. A quick look at the world clock tells him that it is currently 4 PM back in Liverpool and he figures the lads have an excuse for seemingly not having anything better to do.

He doesn’t realise he’s tapping away a respond until his thumb is hovering above the send button, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as light. This is not his club—well, Liverpool will always be his club—but this is not his  _squad_  anymore. Do they know that Steven hasn’t left the group yet? Is he even still allowed to read, let alone participate in the conversation? How does one leave a Whatsapp group chat anyway?

 _You know what,_  Steven thinks, because it’s still early in the morning and the loud noise of Alex’s blender doesn’t really allow him to have a logical thought process,  _whatever_.

And so he hits send.

> _I’m with you there lad. It can do your head in given the times yeah?_

Steven wonders if this is akin to coming to a party uninvited. He doesn’t wonder long though, because it takes almost no time for more messages to come.

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _YES STEVIE THANK YOU_  
> _Learn how to be a caring friend like Stevie u tits_

 **Adam Lallana**  
> _Yeah sure mate he’s just saying that cos he feels sorry for you_

Ridiculous amount of laughing emoji pops up on the screen simultaneously, courtesy of Philippe, Raheem, and Simon. Daniel continues to endure teasing from the rest of the lads ( _Not like you to show weakness eh—He’s probably been listening to Drake nonstop innit Studge—Im surprised u even know who Drake is Ads_ ). No one seems to bat an eye at his presence in the group.

 _Huh._  Steven blinks. _Ok._

 **Alberto Moreno**  
> _Jajajajajaja_  
> _But still good weather for walking no?_

Alberto’s reply comes with a selfie of him and his dog at a park, the smile on his face matches the two smiley faces he puts in the photo caption. It seems as if Alberto has hit a trigger of some sort, because for the next minute or so, the banter is replaced by a cascade of selfies by almost every single member of the group chat.

Joe Allen posts a photo of him rocking his new beard ( _Who are u what hv u done to joey—ha ha ha that’s funny_ ). Emre posts a photo of him and his friends getting coffee in the city. Philippe’s smile makes the grey Liverpool sky in the background not as miserable looking. Jordon’s photo shows him ( _Boy r those my sunnies on your face?— I bought them first Studge u fuck_ ) with Joe Gomez, Nate, and Danny at Albert Dock ( _Being a tour guide are you—Yeah becos Im GREAT and WELCOMING like thx_ ) and Steven tries to ignore the little pang in his heart. Even Kolo joins the selfie party which prompts several  _YES #KOLOKOLOKOLO_  from the lads. Lucas breaks the chain by sending in a photo of his son having a kickabout in the backyard. Steven stifles a smile as he types.

> _So we’re having Pedro as a stand in until Studge recovers are we?_

 **Lucas Leiva**  
> _Definitely!  
_ > _He can even do the dance as well we are sorted_

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _Can he really?? Bro send a vid!!!!_

The conversation starts to slow down after that. Steven looks up from his phone to see Alex raising an eyebrow at him.

“You look cheery,” she says as she turns off her thought process ruining blender.

He does feel cheery, so he just blows a kiss at Alex, making her laugh while she pours her smoothie into two glasses.

Without thinking twice, he opens a message to Daniel.

> _I can come down and visit if you want_

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _You legend  
_ > _Yes Stevie I’d like that very much thank you_

Steven grins to his smoothie as he replies with a kissy face, not noticing Alex’s soft smile as she looks at him with fondness on her face.

 

.

 

The next time the group chat goes active again is on the day Raheem finalises his transfer to Manchester City.

It isn’t as light-hearted as the previous one but it is to be expected. Transfer windows are anything but completely peaceful and stress-free. It’s always a bit painful to see a dear member of the family leaves. To  _Manchester_ , of all places.

 **Raheem Sterling**  
> _At least it’s not utd?_

But well, Steven can’t help it. He laughs.

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _Yeah thank god  
_ > _Means we don’t have to send Skrts and Mama to kill you in your sleep_

 **Lucas Leiva**  
> _It’s bad enough that Carra is now best friends with Neville no?  
_ > _Sorry Stevie_

He laughs  _out loud_.

Steven is glad, though. He’s been through enough transfer windows to accept it can be quite nasty, yet it is not truly one without a bit of tension in the air, and in Raheem’s case—well.

But seeing the lads throwing off banter with relative ease ( _Yeah Raz don’t pull a Carra on us—Can I have ur locker it’s much better than mine—Should I put a frowny face next to ur name now Raz—Im putting a frowny face next to ur name_ ), there can’t be much bad blood this time around. Among themselves, that is.

 **Raheem Sterling**  
> _Cheers u lot love u all really_  
> _Though I must say the past week been real shit cos of me_  
> _I wanna say sorry for the drama_  
> _Things could’ve gone better than that but it didn’t so I’m sorry_

 **Simon Mignolet**  
> _Maybe_  
> _Eh, water under the bridge_

 **Adam Lallana**  
> _Yeah don’t beat yourself up too much about it_

 **Jordon Ibe**  
> _The fans will do it for you_

 **Jordan Henderson**  
> _Jordon_

 **Jordon Ibe**  
> _Im kidding!!! Still love u Raz_

Again, Steven finds himself tapping away a message without realising what he’s doing until he’s done. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to hit the send button.

His message pops up at the same time as Jordan’s.

 **Jordan Henderson**  
> _Seriously though Raz, these things happen. At least now we know how to be better next time round. We’re not holding it against you and we’ll still be your mates. Go on and be the best player you can be lad._

> _Don’t listen too much to whatever they’re saying out there lad. It could’ve been handled better, yes, but you’re young. Take this as a learning experience. Just enjoy the beautiful game of football and be great._

Somehow, Steven is not surprised to read that Jordan’s message is similar to his. If anything, it reinforces his belief that the team is now in the hands of someone who is more than capable. Jordan has come a long way since being the awkward new kid from Sunderland and hell if it doesn’t show. He is thankful for that, really.

 **Raheem Sterling**  
> _Thank you captain_

Still though, Steven considers for a moment if it’s egotistical of him for reading Raheem’s reply and not immediately thinks it’s directed at Jordan.

After more  _Good lucks_ and  _We’ll miss yous_ and  _Don’t come crying when we beat you 3-0_ , Raheem leaves the group chat. His last contribution is a row of five red hearts.

He eyes the ‘ _Raheem Sterling left’_ notification longer than he would care to admit.

 

.

 

He has first thought that it’s nice—it’s really nice to know that he can always be a part of Liverpool, that he is still welcomed,  _a red through and through he is_. But now, he can’t help but to think about how Raheem exits before even putting on the sky blue jersey, how there isn’t even a speck of red in his jersey anymore and yet he still persists.

Is—is he overstepping his boundaries? The lads haven’t said anything, or too polite to say anything, he’s not sure. It’s not like he’s being a past-clinging—a  _stubborn_  man who stomps his feet on the ground and refuses to leave.  _Right_? That would contradict his decision of moving to Los Angeles in the first place. He’s here to—not to get away, but to write something new, something fresh, while he still can.

His phone beeps and he doesn’t even bother to check. He shoves it further down into his pocket, but he can’t quite shove the thoughts further back into his mind.

 

.

 

He struggles to decide whether the group’s tendency to be inactive is a curse or a blessing.

 

.

 

On Steven’s MLS debut, though, Jordan sends in a group photo of him and the lads crammed in what Steven assumes to be Jordan’s living room.

The photo is captioned with  _Good luck!!!!!!!!!!_ and  _#YNWA_  and several fist bumps and football emoji. He sends a quick  _Cheers lads_ and a red heart and proceeds to prepare himself for the match.

Robbie slings an arm around his shoulder shortly before they come out to the pitch.

“Alright, Stevie?” He asks.

Steven smiles, “Yeah, alright.”

“Good,” Robbie smiles back, “have a great game, lad.”

He does. He scores, they win, and he feels  _fantastic_.

 

.

 

Like days, players gone and players come, albeit not in the same kind of pace. It is a week before the start of Premier League that the group chat properly welcomes the new lads of 15/16 season.

Steven watches as the notifications pop up one by one,  _‘_ ( _a_   _string of numbers he doesn’t recognise_ ) _joined’_ , they all say.

 **Simon Mignolet**  
> _Welkom :D_

 **Emre Can**  
> _Hey herzlich willkommen!_

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _Fogadtatás_   _brother!_  
> _Did google translate betray me on that_

 **Philippe Coutinho**  
> _Bem-vido irmão!!_

 **Jordan Henderson**  
> _And welcome to the best football team in the world!  
_ > _Like the dressing room if we could stick to English in here too that would be grand_

Steven still watches as  _Hellos_ and  _Thank yous_  and  _Cheers Daniel!—Call me Studge bro_ and  _Can’t speak other language even if my life depends on it mate_ fill the screen.

He carries on watching as the pleasantries continue for a bit with  _Alright mates?_ and  _Everything’s good so far?_  and  _Don’t hesitate if u need anything ok_ and thumbs up and more  _Yes thank yous_  and smiley faces.

This time, he doesn’t type anything, doesn’t hit the send button even once, not sure if he could—if he should.

He does, however, press  _add this number_ and  _create new contacts_. He does it several times—each time the unrecognisable number changes to _James Milner,_  to  _Christian Benteke_ , to  _Roberto Firmino_ , to  _Nathaniel Clyne_ , to _Adam Bogdan_ , and so on and he feels—he can’t quite word it, but he feels.

 

.

 

A day before Liverpool’s first match in the Premier League, Steven sends a  _We go again lads! Good luck!_  and, after a second of consideration—

> _Don’t forget to avenge me_

The responds range from  _Cheers Stevie_ to many fist bumps to many crying laughing faces to  _WE WILL STEVEN YOU JUST REST EASY NOW_  and—

 **Danny Ings**  
> _Holy shit did I just see Steven Gerrard making a banter_

The gibberish ones come in a rapid pace, though, so Steven doesn’t get a chance to read Danny’s reply before it goes out of the screen.

 

.

 

It’s a testament on how younger the squad is getting, perhaps. The addition of a couple of youngsters seems to rejuvenate even the senior of players.

The cycle used to go like this:

Something would happen. The group would explode with messages for a considerable amount of time. It would then be inactive for undetermined period of time. Repeat.

Nowadays, the messages just—they just come. Not every day, not all the time, but they come. They’re not initiated by anything major, just random short messages that don’t require the lengthiest of discussion.

It’s not a bad thing, really, far from it.  After all, Liverpool Football Club pride themselves on being like a family, and what good is a family if you can’t be comfortable enough with each other to share photos of your pet or the name of café with good waffles every now and then. And they’re great, truly they are. Steven enjoys reading them after a day of hard work at training or when he’s on the road for away matches. It’s his personal live update on Liverpool the city in regards to the intimate and small quirky things. He loves it, really, except—

There is an eight hour differences in time between Liverpool and Los Angeles ( _he’s not in Liverpool, he is in Los Angeles, he is not in Liverpool_ ), and the most notable consequence of that is Steven would sometimes be woken up at ungodly hour of three in the morning.

When it does happen, Steven would just groan a bit, turn his back to the bedside table, and go back to sleep.

There are times, though, when the gentlest of beep would wake him up completely. So he would grab his phone and open the chat. With his bleary eyes he would see a glimpse of familiar Melwood corridor and—Steven would turn his phone off and place it back on the bedside table. He would toss and turn, trying to go back to sleep, to no avail. He would end up lying on his back and stare at the ceiling, telling himself that he’s just been woken up, it is cold and pitch black outside still, anyone would feel vulnerable—would feel  _melancholy_  given the circumstances.

Alex, of course, would sleep through the whole thing, every single time.

Steven both hates and loves her for that.

 

.

 

The Californian sun kisses his face but the cold air of three in the morning lingers.

These days, he struggles to decide whether the group’s low hum of activity is a curse or a blessing.

 

.

 

It’s not like he’s trying to hide his fairly regular communication with the current Liverpool squad, he’s not—it’s not like he’s having some kind of a sordid affair, for Christ’s sake.

And yet, when he sees Alex looking at him with A Look, he locks his phone off on reflex. His heart may or may not also skip a beat.

“You do know that you’re shite at being subtle, right Steven?”

She sprawls herself on the sofa and props her feet on his lap. His hand that isn’t holding his phone goes to gently circle her ankle.

The telly is showing highlights of various sport events that happened throughout the week and Steven only pays half an attention to it. Alex doesn’t make a move to change the channel. Her skin is soft under his touch.

“Not gonna ask me who I’ve been texting?”

“There’s only one bird that can put that Dumb SmileTM on your face.”

“They are several grown men,” after a beat, he adds, “did you just say TM out loud?”

Alex waves her hand dismissively, “Several grown men, one giant red bird, same difference.”

Steven snorts. The highlights topic changes from basketball to tennis. He still only pays half an attention to it.

“Is it… Do you reckon it’s ok, for me to be there even though I’m not there anymore?”

He’s being vague, but he knows Alex gets him. She always does, even when he doesn’t get himself.

“Are they upsetting you?”

“…No.”

They’re not. They never.

Yet, when they’re talking about that day’s shenanigans, or when they complain about how cold the weather is getting, or when they share training photos to be posted on Instagram, Steven is—it’s nice to be included, it’s not as nice to be reminded that he  _is not there anymore_.

But no, he wouldn’t say  _they’re_  upsetting him. Even if they were, he couldn’t do anything about it could he? _He doesn’t know how to leave_.      

He absentmindedly thumbs the bony part of her ankle.

She frowns.

“Do they have a problem about you being there?”

“They never say,” he says, “but they could be too polite to say anything about it.”

“Do  _you_  have a problem about you being there?”

And Steven—he’s not sure if he knows the right answer to that.

“Well it’s… this isn’t illegal is it?”

At that, Alex huffs out a laugh, “I don’t think  _I_  can answer that, love.”

There’s an implication, and they leave it at that.

When Steven does pay full attention to the telly, it is showing a football ( _soccer, as they say_ ) match highlight. Naturally, because the universe loves him like that, it’s a Liverpool match.

They watch as the Reds run around the pitch, not passing perfectly, not finishing their chances, not looking like they know what they’re doing.

“Not exactly playing like a team, are they?”

Football isn’t really high on Alex’s passion list, if it even makes the list in the first place. However, she is nothing if not observant and smart, so when she does make a comment, Steven listens.

“You should suggest them to have a team bonding exercise at Garlands, seemed to do you lot great for your ‘05 campaign.”

Well—that one isn’t exactly one of her best.

He replies by tickling her foot. She retaliates by sitting up and poking his side. Their laugh echoes around the room.

 

.

 

Eventually, he knows the ( _simple, one step_ ) procedure to leave a Whatsapp group. He also knows how to mute a conversation which he doesn’t even realise is an available option.

Alex tells him how to do both with a voice that is neither assuming nor abstaining. He kisses her softly, grateful that no matter where he is, when it is, he can always count on her to fill his senses with home.

He doesn’t put either of his newfound knowledge into action, though.

 

.

 

He does, however, call Jordan after quickly making sure he won’t catch him at an inconvenient time. Jordan answers by the third ring.

_“Stevie! How’s it going?”_

They are an ocean away, yet Jordan’s voice doesn’t seem to be distorted much by the distance, and Steven takes a bit of comfort in it.

“Good, all’s good, how’s yous been now?”

They talk about their day, about their family, because those are no-brainers, always easy to talk about. Then they ease their way to football, to Jordan’s injury, because those aren’t always easy to talk about.

_“No more unbearable pain, just itching to get back really. Ads still owes me a fifty ‘cos he thought I wouldn’t actually win the FIFA 16 thing and I’d rather brag in person than through Whatsapp.”_

Steven laughs. And because the opening is there, he goes for it.

“Speaking of that, Hendo, I’ve a question for you.”

_“Sure Stevie, what is it?”_

“It’s… you lads are not being polite to me right? Sparring the feeling of an old man and all that?”

_“What sorry—“_

“If you want me out of the Liverpool chat group, you can just say so.”

And well—now that he’s said it out loud, he feels a bit ridiculous. He is Steven Gerrard, he plays professional football, and he does it long enough to be able to say that now he is currently talking to his  _successor_. To think that this all starts because he feels he’s getting horribly old. What the hell is that passive-aggressive, teenage drama line that comes out of his mouth—

_“Why would we want you out of the group?”_

—and that effectively stops his train of thought.

“Uh, because I’m not Liverpool’s anymore? Shouldn’t be a part of squad chat then, should I?”

To his surprise, Jordan laughs,  _“Yeah right. That’s a good one, captain.”_

“Jordan,  _you’re_  the captain.”

_“Ah, habits. But you’re like The Captain, with capital T and C, no one truly outranks you.”_

He’s not sure how to respond to that.

_“But, Stevie, if we are bothering you—“_

“No! No, it’s just… this could still be potentially morally wrong.”

_“Eh, we’re all just mates having a chat. We don’t even talk much about football there surprisingly. I don’t reckon we’re in the middle of some kind of collusion here.”_

With Jordan’s mature and calm voice going to his ear, Steven thinks about the possibility of him going through a mid-life crisis.

_“Besides, when the new lads realised you’re there, they were buzzing like, especially the youngins. I swear Joe, Joe Gomez that is, his eyes were sparkling and he’s saying like ‘Oh my god I’ve got Steven Gerrard’s number,’ the sweet lad.”_

“And I’ve got his saved. All of them lot’s actually.”

_“I’ll be sure to mention it. Will give them a real boost that I’m sure.”_

Steven laughs softly, “Alright, ok, just making sure. They haven’t really got proper written protocol for this kind of thing you know.”

_“Ha. That’s true. Oh, and Stevie—“_

A beat.

_“—you are Liverpool's and Liverpool is yours, no matter what, for as long as you want it to be.”_

Steven doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath. When he lets it out, it is with a smile and liberty.

 

.

 

And so, Steven stays.

He stays when the news of Brendan Rodgers has left Liverpool breaks out.

He stays when the lads all suddenly turn to Emre and Roberto for impromptu German lesson as Jürgen Klopp touches down in Liverpool because  _We want to welcome him proper, we’re class like that innit._

 **Emre Can**  
> _I am sure he knows great English  
_ > _I have a feel after knowing Guten Morgen you will just be interested in curse words_

 **Roberto Firmino**  
> _My German is já ido. Is gone already._

 **Jordon Ibe**  
> _Bollocks  
_ > _I don’t accept that_

 **Danny Ings**  
> _Oi what’ve you got against integration and unity_

 **Adam Lallana**  
> _Just tell them one curse word so they will stop please_

He stays when they share snapshots of their walk around the city with Jürgen.

He stays when everyone is congratulating Philippe for  _The long awaited celebration! Finally Phil!!!_ followed by  _Thank god u actually did it before the baby come out eh_ and combination of laughing and kissy faces and a single middle finger from Philippe and, naturally, more laughing faces.

He is  _so glad_  he stays when one day—

 **Dejan Lovren**  
> _To anyone not aware yet:  
_ > _Guess what happened earlier today_

 **Jordon Ibe**  
> _NO_

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _What_

 **Simon Mignolet**  
> _Oh this is good_

 **Jordon Ibe**  
> _SHUTUP_

 **James Milner**  
> _Is this about Jordon accidentally calling the boss ‘Dad’?_

 **Martin Skrtel**  
> _HA Did he really??_

 **Daniel Sturridge**  
> _HE WHAT  
_ > _HAHAHAHAHAH HOW_

 **Dejan Lovren**  
> _Yes! Eye-bee called Kloppo dad this morning  
_ > _Not sure if the boss heard it though_

 **Divock Origi**  
> _Oh my god hahahahaha_

 **Jordon Ibe**  
> _I hate you all_

 **Jordan Henderson**  
> _Damn  
_ > _I really thought Alberto would do that first_

 **Lucas Leiva**  
> _I know right_  
> _How much money did Ads just win right now_

It’s not always gloom-free. Sometimes the air tastes bittersweet, but still he stays.

He’s left once. He’s now on the plane to Liverpool ( _to home_ ) for off-season training. He will leave again once it’s time for Los Angeles to beckon him back.

But he knows, and everyone who knows him knows, there is only one place where Steven Gerrard can truly be.

He stays.

 

.

 

Bonus

 

 **Jordan Henderson**  
> _Hey Stevie did you by any chance tell Carra you are still a part of this group chat_

> _I might have mentioned it  
_ > _Why is something wrong?_

 **Jordan Henderson**  
> _He’s been asking me to be included as well_

 **Lucas Leiva**  
> _He asked me and Skrts too  
_ > _I think he’s getting lonely now that Neville is off to Spain_

 **James Milner**  
> _We’re worried he’d force his way through the wee boys next  
_ > _Like Flanno_

> _Tell him journos got no place in private matter like this_

 **Jordan Henderson**  
> _Yeah that’s what we did_

Steven smiles with pride.

Ahh, boys.

**Author's Note:**

>   1. [hello!](http://darquematter.tumblr.com/)
>   2. eh. i tried.
>   3. [a video of pedro doing the studge](https://www.instagram.com/p/6Hn5VPATFX).
>   4. i'll be honest with you, i didn't plan to give sterling any kind of redemption it just... wrote itself... like 70% of this story wrote itself actually. i had little to no control. i am sorry.
>   5. december 2004; stevie & co went to garlands (a gay bar in liverpool) for christmas celebration. may 2005; stevie & co won CL. it's a stretch but i couldn't resist making the joke. i'd link you the article but i couldn't find it anywhere. apparently it was ABBA themed, kewell was quite a catch, and dudek couldn't dance to save his life. trust me on this.
>   6. thank you so _so_ much for reading this! please do leave any comments and/or criticism and thank you so much once again!
> 



End file.
